mon law of England, in all cases, a drawing of blood. We have it from good authority, that a cabinet council was called, on Sunday last, to decide how long it will be necessary to postpone the "august and sacred ceremony," in order to train leeches to hard drinking, in order to go through the operation without flinching, should the question be decided for the college. = OUR readers by this time have had enough, in the descriptive way, of the preparations for the coronation of George the Fourth, "Defender of the Faith," et cetera, et cetera; a gentleman, a little declined in the vale of years; a gay gallant dandy; fond of women and wine; above all reproof, and above all law; in short, a king, not of "shreds and patches," but of splendid robes, glittering crowns, and large whiskers. We, poor degenerate Yankee Doodles, can have but a faint idea of this most awful and august ceremony of putting a golden rim, studded with jewels, and stuffed with velvet and woollen, on the powdered and pomatumed head of a fat old gentleman with a red nose: then to hear, the trumpets, and kettle drums, and see the lords and ladies on their knees, in homage to the power, the virtues, and the worth of this hereditary great man. However, we must set our imagination at work; we must fancy we see the whole ceremony :-First, the lord chamberlain carrying the king his shirt and pair of drawers on the morning of his coronation, and receiving in return forty yards of velvet for a robe, for which the poor of Manchester must pay; a most important and indispensable ceremony; for if his majesty had no drawers, he would cut but a sorry figure in Westminster Abbey. He would have to sing with King Arthur, in Tom Thumb "For when the husband once gives way To the wife's capricious sway, For his breeches, the next day, Then we see Miss Fellows, the king's herb woman, whom, for aught we know, may be a very pretty girl, strewing rosemary, rue, fennel, catnip, sage, and other medicinal and culinary plants, before his most gracious majesty; making a savoury and strong concoction to per fume the air. Anon, follows the big wigs and the little wigs; the lords spiritual and temporal; the chancellor, the judges, high sheriffs, bum bailiffs, tipstaffs, beefeaters; together with the pursuivant at arms, bishops, maids of honor, sword of state, silver sticks, and gold sticks; and, last, not least, comes uncle George himself, under a splendid canopy, long robes, buff shoes, red roses, big belly, false calves, and painted eyebrows. Then follow the guards of honour, and of personal safety; the nobility, gentry, and canaille. Such shouting and throwing up of caps, that even the champion of England trembles within his iron armour. While the imagination is afloat, let it sail into Westminster Abbey, and observe the chair of state, the gloves, the spurs, the globe, and sceptre ; the holy unction, purchased at his majesty's oil shop, Picadilly, No. 43; the kneeling down to be crowned; the washing of hands; the cere mony of the banquet; the golden cup, out of which the king drinks" to the general joy of the table, and his good queen Caroline, whom he misses" then, the champion of England proclaiming, by a herald and the sound of trumpet, that he is ready to maintain, by force of arms, et cetera, the right of his most gracious majesty to the throne of England, knowing, full well, that no person would question that right before supper; then, the king drinking the very good health of the champion; then, the champion, riding up to the table on his white horse, seizes the golden cup, drinks the punch, and puts the cup in his pocket; then, backs his horse from the banquet a posteriori; then, the chorus from Handel, non nobis domine, "Molly put the kettle on," and "God save the king." Thus end the amusements of the day, and thus are the poor of England taxed one penny more a pound for tea; with additional items on sugar, candles, coal, beer, and window glass; and the good king jogs on as usual, drinks whiskey, and apple toddy, and visits the marchioness of Hertford; not an inch amended, or reformed, by all this costly ceremony. events, one thing is certain, George will go through this pantomime with infinite grace; he has rehearsed his part, no doubt, thoroughly; he is fit for nothing else. At all To a reflecting mind, how powerful are the considerations, which this ceremony awakens. Here we have an instance of the entailed curses of hereditary power. A legitimate successor to the throne orders himself to be crowned, which costs the people not less than five millions of dollars! The "round and top of sovereignty" is placed on a head, which never conceived a useful or glorious project; the golden sceptre is grasped by a hand that never wielded a sword, or struck a blow for liberty and law; the royal robes encircle a person, who never "set a squadron in the field," nor exposed himself for the benefit of his fellow men. Are the people to be envied, or commiserated, in their vassalage? How provoking it must be to George the Fourth, in all his pageantry, and glory, to see grim death making a snap at him in the shape of gout or apoplexy, and actually carrying him off, in spite of the champion of England, the gold sticks, silver sticks, and Miss Fellows, the herb woman, into the bargain. MATRIMONY. [From the same.] WE frequently read, in English papers, the annuncia、 tion of marriages in high life, as thus: "Married, yesterday morning, at eleven o'clock, at St. George's Chapel, Hanover-square, the Right Honourable C. F. D. to the accomplished and amiable Lady Mary E. daughter of the Earl of S. The happy couple immediately set off for the country in a barouche and four." The annals of this country, we believe, have only been distinguished by one marriage of corresponding pomp and ceremony, and that did not please the million. But there is a part of this English ceremonial, which is too frequently imitated here. We allude to a visit to the country immediately after the solemnization of the nuptials. Scarcely is the knot tied-the parson had his fee, his kiss, and his cake, when the damsel, so coy and distant before marriage, jumps into a hack, or barouche, a steam-boat, or a sloop, as the case may be, and, surrounded by strangers, passes the first hours after the wedding. In many instances, this elopement after mar riage is the result of delicacy-a false delicacy, to be sure; to avoid the throng of congratulations; the eager and joyous press of friends; the nods, winks, and " ambiguous givings out" of wags, and roguish damsels. These, we admit, are sometimes perplexing, but they are only the scattered thorns on the rose bush; the pain is light, and transient, which hilarity banishes, and pure affection renders evanescent. Far different are the impressions, to a delicate mind, which these matrimonial visits produce. A couple, just united, are, necessarily, as strange to each other as before marriage. It is only time, and affection, that can cement the bonds of union, and of confidence; and, yet, as this fashion prevails, the lady trusts herself to her new made husband; leaves the city in which she was born; the parents, who reared her; the friends, who love her; the companions, who rejoice in her change of condition, and sets off to the country; arrives, at the close of the day, at the village inn; is stared at by the clowns; takes a cup of souchong tea; eats some quince sweetmeats. Her bride maid is a strapping wench in a linsey-woolsey petticoat, and she is put to bed in cotton sheets on a mattress of moss, and all night is disturbed with the trampling of horses, the lowing of cows, the village fiddler, or the jingling cart of a tin pedlar. This rural felicity is not confined to a single day. The blushing bride is led out by her blushing husband, and takes another diurnal journey; visits another village; and, after the lady is thus dragged about the country, jolted, pounded, bruised, stared at, and half starved, she returns, in a fortnight, to the city, and sets up for company, in great state, the marriage being then an old affair. Now we do protest against this unsocial and indelicate practice. The parent, or guardian, who consents to the marriage of a ward, or daughter, should afford his countenance to the couple, and claim the right of entertaining them while yet the parties are novitiates. A young lady should celebrate her marriage under her parent's roof, and surrounded by her household gods, and not run off into the woods, and hide behind hay ricks, as if to shun the face of day, and avoid the gaze of fellow mortals. SUNDAY IN THE COUNTRY. 189 The ancients celebrated their marriages with votive offerings; and with all the native simplicity, which truth and innocence inspire. We should not depart from early and sound examples, but rather perpetuate them. The more the world sees of young married people, the more fashionable and customary will matrimony become. MR. EDITOR, SUNDAY IN THE COUNTRY. SOME legislatures make statutes that no civil officer shall arrest any person on Sunday. I have sometimes thought that the same law ought to extend to officers of the church, forbidding them to keep their congregation in duress on that day. I live in a small country village, and belong to a small congregation, the members of which are very well contented with each other, and their clergyman. We are always glad to meet, and greet, one another, on Sunday, when we contrive to be informed of what has been doing during the week, in our parish, as well as the rest of the world. Some, accordingly, collect, for this purpose, about the meetinghouse steps, before the service begins, and the bell frequently ceases tolling before their conversation is ended. In a fair bright day, the minister generally seats himself in the pulpit, where he remains some time, turning over the leaves of his books, and his sermon, and then looks about the congregation, and, now and then, turns his eye to the door, by way of inquiring whether the news is told, and the groups broken up, and ready to join the worship. On the other hand, the talkers look in, at every pause in the conversation, to observe whether the minister has commenced reading the psalm. Mean time, the fans are all in motion, and the dames are overseeing the demeanor of the damsels, while the damsels are spying out all the new dresses, and covertly prinking themselves. Now a new silk gown rustles up the aisle; presently a new pair of shoes creak through the gallery; the singers, one after another, give a hem, to clear their pipes, while the president of the bass-viol touches the strings softly, and |